The river at the bottom of the Rust-Hallow canyon was not water. It was Aether-Sludge—the byproduct of a thousand years of magical waste. It glowed with a sickly, neon-green luminescence that cast long, distorted shadows against the jagged canyon walls.
"Don't touch the liquid," Xylo warned, his voice tight. He was wading through the knee-deep muck on the riverbank, carrying Aeon on his back. "It's concentrated corruption. If it touches your skin, it will try to rewrite your DNA into something... else."
I followed close behind, my boots squelching in the toxic mud. I didn't need him to tell me it was dangerous. My Resonance Sense was screaming. The river sounded like a million dying whispers, all overlapping into a single, agonizing drone.
"The 30% mark..." I gasped, stumbling as a wave of dizziness hit me. "Xylo, I can feel your legs. I can feel the burn in your muscles as if they're my own."
Xylo paused, looking back at me. His golden eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. "And I can feel your hunger, Vespera. It's a cold, gnawing pit in the center of my stomach. It's distracting."
This was the "Permanent Soul-Bleed." We weren't just sharing a power source anymore; we were sharing the physical sensation of existence. When his wing brushed against a sharp rock, I winced from the phantom sting on my own back.
Aeon, perched on Xylo's shoulders, reached out a small hand. He touched the violet-gold vine now wrapped around my wrist, and then the one on Xylo's.
Suddenly, the heaviness of the mud vanished. I felt light, almost as if I were walking on air. Aeon's black eyes remained fixed on the dark horizon, his tiny face a mask of concentration.
"The boy is a natural conduit," Xylo whispered, his pace increasing as we glided over the sludge. "He's doing the work of a high priest without even breaking a sweat."
"He was a battery, Xylo," I reminded him, my heart aching as I felt the boy's underlying exhaustion through the bond. "He's been doing this his whole life."
We traveled in silence for an hour, the canyon narrowing until the walls were barely six feet apart. The Prime Seeker's hum had faded, unable to track us through the dense, toxic fog of the riverbed. But just as I thought we were safe, the Resonance Sense spiked.
A sound like a rusted gate swinging in the wind.
"Something is in the sludge," I said, stopping dead.
The green liquid in front of us began to churn. From the depths of the slime, a sludge wraith emerged. It was a mass of semi-liquid rot, held together by a core of jagged obsidian. It didn't have a face, only a vertical slit that leaked black bile.
"Vespera, stay back!" Xylo drew his sword, but the metal began to hiss the moment he neared the creature. The toxic fumes were eating through his Divine Light.
"Your light won't work here!" I shouted. "The sludge is anti-matter! You're just feeding it!"
I stepped forward, my hands igniting with a violet fire that felt colder than ice. If the sludge was a byproduct of magic, it was exactly what my Void Core was designed to handle. It wasn't a threat; it was a buffet.
"Vespera, no! The corruption—"
I didn't listen. I plunged my hands directly into the Wraith's liquid chest.
The pain was a jagged lightning bolt that shot up my arms and straight into my heart. It felt like drinking molten lead. But I didn't pull away. Through the Tether, I felt Xylo's strength pouring into me, stabilizing my vitals. I felt Aeon's weightlessness keeping my spirit from sinking into the rot.
"I... am... the Void!" I roared.
The Sludge-Wraith shuddered. The neon-green glow began to dim as I sucked the Aether-waste out of its body. The liquid mass collapsed, turning into harmless, gray water that flowed away into the river.
I fell to my knees, coughing up a bit of black mist. The runes on my arms were pulsing with a dark, sickly green light, fighting to purify the corruption I'd just inhaled.
Xylo was at my side in a second, his hands trembling as he checked my pulse. "You idiot. You could have turned into one of them."
"But I didn't," I wheezed, looking up at him. "I'm Level 10, Xylo. The system... it says I've unlocked a class selection."
Void-Knight (focus on physical combat and armor).
Soul-Reaper (focus on long-range essence draining).
Calamity Vessel (Focus on massive, uncontrolled destruction).
Xylo looked at the floating translucent screen. He couldn't see it, but through the bond, he could feel the choices.
"The Vessel," he whispered, his eyes narrowing. "That's what the Emperor fears you are. Don't choose the path of destruction, Vespera. The world doesn't need another disaster."
"I'm not a disaster," I said, my finger hovering over the screen. "I'm the cure."
I didn't choose the Knight or the Reaper. I looked at the hidden, flickering text at the bottom of the list—one that only appeared because of our 35% synchronization.
4. The Bound Sovereign.
I pressed it.
The violet-gold vines on our wrists bloomed. They grew leaves of pure, shimmering light that smelled of rain and iron. The toxicity of the canyon seemed to recede, a ten-meter circle of purity forming around the three of us.
Xylo stood up, his wings fully restored, the silver tips glowing with a renewed, sharp brilliance. "The air... it's clean."
"It's us," I said, standing tall. "The Trinity is stabilized."
"Then let's get out of this gutter," Xylo said, a small, rare
smile tugging at his lips. "We have a king to unseat."